Bed of Roses
by absurdvampmuse
Summary: James/Teresa one piece. Set mid-season 2./Guero, James and Teresa share a hotel room for a night. Guero spared James a brief look before focusing on Teresa once more. "What else am I supposed to think? You're obviously in his clothes." Teresa pulled the fabric of the shirt as far over her knees as it would go. Guero's words had hit home. He was goading her and James knew it./


**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to _The Queen of the South_ or its characters. I am merely borrowing them. All I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.**

 **A/N:** Unfortunately there aren't a lot of Teresa and James stories out there, but I think that it is definitely a pairing worth writing about. I had to get this idea out of my head and I really hope it will be able to reach some of you.

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 **Bed of Roses**

 _And there's nowhere left to fall, but still I know that you would never leave me with nothing at all._

Guero had always been the jealous type. Teresa had always known this, seen and felt it, simmering just below the surface. The light in his eyes obtained this dangerous kind of gleam and he cracked the bones in his hands, his knuckles. And these past days he had been prowling, looking for the final straw that would set him off. A firecracker that unexpectedly went off in your hand.

He had always been like this, or at least ever since she had met him, insanely protective of her. Yet he was also the man who had let her believe that he had died and had ultimately driven her into this much harder and unfair version of the world. And despite his pretty eyes, sweet words and roguish charm, she didn't forgive him. Not yet.

There was too much between them now.

She hadn't said as much yet, but he somehow sensed it, suspecting James because he needed someone to blame, someone who wasn't her. Their relationship hadn't been ready for this; instead of going through the worst together, they had done so separately.

And now the three of them were stuck sharing a hotel room for the night, or suite as James had referred to it whilst explaining that there were several rooms inside said suite. She didn't bother voicing out loud that it didn't matter to her as long as she had a place to recuperate and rest.

Somehow James had picked up on this unspoken sentiment and had carried her modest duffel bag in the silent understanding that they had assembled. This was just how it had been for a while now.

Until Guero had reappeared.

This was where it had started or when she had taken notice of it, like something she remembered out of the blue. Maybe, somewhere, she had consciously chosen to ignore it, the tension for as long as she possibly could because she was tired. Tired of everything she had to constantly endure, and this was something that wasn't life or death and could wait as a result of that.

James held out the bag for her to take once inside the room, but Guero was faster, pouncing after circling. All the while making sure to maintain eye-contact with the other man. "I'll take that. Let's go pick out a room, babe."

To her ears it sounded as if his words were covered with barbed wire, ready to cut deep if she dared to move and came too close. She heard the forced pleasantness and faux endearment in the lilt of his words, dissolving quickly like ash. They were said to prove something, to win something. And she was the prize.

So Teresa lifted her head, keeping the lines in her body straight and stiff as she braced for the fight that Guero had been looking for ever since they had all started working together. She didn't move, not giving an inch because she knew he would take more than a mile. "Actually, I'd like my own room," she began cautiously, keeping her tone light. "I've been with you two the whole time… I need some space. No offense." She turned her eyes to James first, glancing up at him from below her lashes before finally daring a look at Guero.

"None taken," James replied instantly while nonchalantly dropping his own bag in one of the large armchairs. "There are enough rooms for everybody to have their own." He unzipped his jacket and began shrugging it off, busying himself.

Teresa went to take her bag from Guero, but his hold on it remained firm.

James threw his jacket over the armchair. "You heard the lady," he directed at Guero, his eyes on the other man's whitening knuckles.

Guero gave a single nod of his head. "Yeah, I heard her." His hazel eyes glimmered, dark and slick like oil as he finally handed off the bag to Teresa. "I'll be in my room then. Call me when dinner's here," he gave the instruction with a dismissive wave of his hand before turning and stalking off.

Teresa released a sigh when she heard a door shut, pushing back strands of her dark hair with her free hand.

James let out a whistle between his teeth. "He's like a ticking time bomb."

Her shoulders slumped, eyes dropping to the bag she now held on to with both hands. "I know."

"Why?"

"You know why," she replied more softly than she usually spoke.

It was something his attention snagged on as he set his gaze on her, taking in her stance and body language that spoke volumes when she refused to. "Do I?"

"I'm not doing this," Teresa stated, her eyes gingerly brushing against his. "I'm tired."

She expected him to push, dig in his heels. Instead, he picked up on the resistance within her and chose to respect it, glossing over the conversation like it had never been. "What about hungry?"

She nodded, hoping that the gratitude showed somehow.

"What do you like? To eat," James clarified, a trace of playfulness now visible in his eyes.

She couldn't hold back the timid smile that managed to break through, instantly softening her features and relaxing her muscles. "I haven't had pizza in a while."

"Pizza it is then." He pulled his phone from his pocket. "Go, settle in. Relax."

Teresa didn't thank him for the small gestures of kindness he was providing or for how he had remained by her side when Guero had finally acted on whatever frustration he was choosing not to directly voice. She didn't need to. It was just how it had been for a while now.

So she went to her room, closing the door on all the disquietude and basked in the temporary solitude as she took full advantage of the room and small bathroom adjacent to it. She took a bath, using up all of the free bubble bath, shampoo and other toiletries that she could find. A momentary reprieve because when she went to look for something to wear, something that could pass for sleep attire, she was faced with her reality once again.

Besides the couple of pairs of jeans and long-sleeves, she didn't own anything. She had acquired a few other essentials through James, either taken from or given to her. Like the long and too-big red flannel shirt she decided would have to do and had worn a few times before to sleep in. Nothing else she had to sleep in would cover as much of her as it did, and she didn't want to lose this feeling of comfort that had cocooned around her as a result of the warm bath and soft bedsheets.

She didn't bother rolling up the sleeves or putting anything on her feet as she left her room and padded back out into the shared living area. James was still there, opening pizza boxes whilst chewing on a cinnamon stick. It was as normal as she had ever seen him. It stirred something inside of her that she wasn't ready to name because that was how things became real. Too real. So she ignored it, just as he didn't comment on how she looked in his shirt, and what it did to him.

James simply flipped another box open and offered her a cinnamon stick of her own. She took it before claiming a spot on the gigantic couch, pulling up her knees because that was how she was most comfortable. It was funny how she had accepted the cards that had been dealt to her and how she had grown used to things being like this, to James. She took him in as he found plates in the little kitchen area and hauled them back to the table. He pointed at a box and when she nodded he grabbed two slices and deposited them on one of the plates. He then placed it on top of her bare knees, making sure neither his eyes or fingered lingered as he had already picked up on Guero as he approached, his footfall deliberately heavy. "Perfect timing. It's hot," he offhandedly added while handing out a plate for Guero to take.

Guero only eyed the plate before grabbing a slice and plopping down on the couch across from the one Teresa was sitting on.

James didn't react, simply adding a slice for himself onto the plate before taking a seat in the armchair that was strategically placed in between the couches.

For the first few minutes no one said a word, the tension growing even thicker and unbearable, suffocating even. Finally, Teresa had to say something, desperately searching for words as if she was indeed gasping for breath. "This is so good," she pushed out the pleasantry in between bites.

She watched James reach for another slice and Guero tug at the toppings on the piece of pizza he was somehow balancing on his bouncing knee. He had yet to take a bite. He let out a faint grunt, throwing the pizza back in the box. He wiped his hands together, his eyes settling on her. "Yeah, it has been a while. Remember how we always used to go to that Italian place whenever we were craving pizza..." He didn't voice it as a question, but more of an assumption, like she had no choice but to go along with the story. "With the authentic pizza ovens and the owner that spoke Italian…"

She could only nod as she placed the plate with half eaten pizza beside her on the couch, not as appetizing or satisfying as it had seemed less than a minute ago.

Guero folded his hands together in his lap while leaning forwards more. "We used to request a booth in the back. Dark, private…"

"Guero," was her soft warning as she pulled her knees closer to her body in discomfort at the direction he was steering the conversation in.

"I was hoping to rekindle it here," Guero ignored her plea. "A shared room, bubble bath, champagne."

"This is not the place or time for this… This is not a romantic getaway."

Guero clicked his tongue and tilted his head just a fraction. "Not for us two at least. But maybe—"

Her fingers dug into her knees. "Don't."

"Whatever you're about to imply," James cut in sharply, not being able to play the part of the silent onlooker any longer. He hated the complications that relationships brought with them, any and every one of them. It tended to interfere with everything else. Even now it was affecting him, feeling this need to step in and deflect so Teresa wouldn't take the full brunt of Guero's verbal attack. He also couldn't stand seeing what it was doing to Teresa, turning her into a less secure and strong version of herself. "I'd rethink it."

Guero spared him a brief look before focusing on Teresa once more. "What else am I supposed to think? You're obviously in his clothes." He flicked both of his hands at her. "Walking around practically naked and comfortable enough because you've apparently done so countless times before," he assumed even further.

Teresa pulled the fabric of the shirt as far over her knees as it would go, incredibly self-conscious. But it was too late to make up for that choice, too late to get up now and change back into her jeans and long sleeve. It would also be proof that Guero's words had hit home.

"You might as well tell me the truth now, Teresa. Are you two sleeping together?" He used both his index and middle fingers to point at her and then at James. "If so, no need to keep up the pretense with the separate rooms."

"Guero, stop," she pleaded one more time, watching from the corner of her eye how James moved his plate to the table and shifted his legs into a wider, more defensive stance.

"Is that why you haven't told me anything about your time with him?" he continued to berate her.

Teresa curled her hands into tight fists that turned white quickly as she pressed them into her knees to keep from her words spilling over and coming out wrong and twisted. He was goading her, looking for a fight that Guero hoped would ultimately lead to a make-up.

He scoffed. "You didn't wait long to spr—"

"Stop!" she finally yelled out, jumping up from her seat. "Do you hear yourself? You don't know shit about what I've been through so don't assume."

Guero stood up as well, cracking his knuckles as he opened his mouth to speak.

Teresa didn't give him a chance to. "I didn't want to do this now. I don't want to hurt you…" she trailed off, pausing for a few seconds to meet his eyes, practically glowing with intensity and anger. She gave him a chance to back down, stop her. But he didn't so she went on, "I don't want to share a room with you because I was raped. Right after I had to run." She held up her hand at him, signaling that she wasn't done, nor did she dare so much as a glance in James' direction. She would lose her braveness and boldness if she did. "I don't trust people anymore. I don't like anyone to get too close." She took a deep breath, dropping her hand to tug at her shirt. "And I'm wearing this because when I ran, I had to leave everything behind. Nothing is my own, Guero. So, yeah, I borrow things. And I've gotten used to it because I had no choice but to. You weren't there to protect me, fight for me. James has been around ever since, so I guess I got used to him being there," she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I don't want to share a room because you lied to me. You left me to fend for myself even though you knew how hard this life is."

"Teresa," Guero said her name, taking a step forwards and reaching out to her. But she held up both of her hands. "Don't." She closed her eyes briefly as she took a breath, opening her eyes again on the exhale. "Just… I need air." She went to move around the couch but didn't get that far.

"You should've just let it be," James remarked, getting up with a sigh of his own.

As soon as he was up, Guero was poking his finger into his chest, standing too close. "This is your fault!" he shouted in James' face. "No matter what she says, I see the way you look at her."

Guero went to shove him, but James simply held up his index finger. "I would stop if I were you. I'm not repeating myself," he cautioned the other man, his voice low and deadly.

Teresa didn't make it more than a step or two from where she had started, turning around and moving quickly as she placed herself in between the two men. "Guero—"

"You're protecting him," Guero accused, his body surging forwards with the violence his words carried and causing her to inch as much backwards as she could, leaving her back pressed against James' chest.

"I don't want either of you to fight or to get hurt. This is stupid."

"Is he the one who raped you?" he hissed the question at her and she flinched. James felt and saw it, now close to seething himself. He was like an animal contained in a cage that barely could.

"What, no. I wouldn't—I couldn't…" She was at loss for words.

"I take that as a personal insult," James was quick to add, feeling the faint tremor run through her body. He placed a handont her lower back, just a slight and subtle touch to steady her. "You don't know me enough to make that judgment call."

Guero snorted. "You used girls as drug mules but raping one of them goes too far." His gaze dropped back down to Teresa who still hadn't moved. "Move, Teresa," he told her. "This is between—"

"Listen, it's understandable that you feel threatened and—"

It was Teresa's shocked gasp that cut James off this time. Guero had grasped onto her shirt first, fingers light as they crept around her arm, tugging her abruptly and firmly away from James.

Guero pushed her away, wanting, no needing so desperately to put distance between Teresa and James. It was harsher than he had intended but the sudden surge of anger slipped out of his control instantly, and he could only stand there and watch as Teresa stumbled into the table, cursing in Spanish as her knee smashed into the metal.

James step forwards was a natural reaction, as was the defensive and impulse act of reaching for his gun. But Teresa stopped him with a resolute shake of her head, eyes moving quickly from him and back to Guero. She approached him once more whilst pulling her shoulders back as if she was bracing for round two. "What do you want, Guero? How do I make this better for you?" she asked somewhat acerbically, her eyes bright in their frustration although she was doing her best to keep a hold of its edges. "Do you want me to give in and sleep in the same room as you, the same bed? Do you want me to sleep with you, is that it?" She ignored the indignation that flashed through her ex lover's eyes as well as the hiss of air that escaped from between James' teeth. "Well, tell me!" she demanded, adding the same force that Guero had applied to her earlier.

"Teresa," James cautioned her, his eyes still on Guero while his fingers remained within reach of his gun.

"Or do you want me to leave all of this behind and go with you, leave," Teresa continued with her rant. "Because if that were an option, Guero, I would've done that already. Don't you think I would've done that already?" she asked the rhetorical question, all the while managing to keep her arms and hand straight and close to her body. "I don't need you to save me. I've kept myself safe and when I wasn't able to do that, James did it for me. It's just how it has been," she cut Guero off before he could interject.

The fingers of both of her hands now reached for the hem of the shirt she was wearing, seeking the smallest of comforts in one of the few ways she still could. "Or is it something smaller you want. It's because I'm wearing his clothes…" She narrowed her eyes at the sheepish expression that then appeared on Guero's face and the hand he ran across it in a feeble attempt to disguise it from her. "That's it, isn't it." She scoffed, holding up her hands for both men to see, palms facing upwards. "All you had to do was say so, because that is something I can amend." She reached for the buttons on her shirt, undoing them in such a rapid manner that she almost ripped them clean off.

Teresa took off the shirt in a calm enough fashion before flinging it at Guero, leaving her in just her practical and basic black underthings.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Guero yelled at her as he caught a hold of the shirt and moved towards her. "Do you not see what you look like now?"

There was a moment of brief confusion as it swirled in her eyes before his words hit home. "Say it, I fucking dare you, Guero!" She pushed against his chest, turning the conversation physical once more.

This time James' fingers did grab a hold of his gun, pulling it from his pants and upwards in one fast and fluid movement. "Enough!" He aimed the weapon at Guero, one hand on the gun while the other signaled for Teresa to move away from Guero. "I suggest you go to your corner and I'll go to mine. We have a job to do," he reminded them.

Guero blew out a breath, eyes never straying from the dark-haired woman in between the two men. "Fine," he conceded, one hand slipping into his back pocket while the other blindly reached for a slice of pizza just for the sake of keeping up his appearance of complacency. "You don't want to share a bedroom with me… but out of respect for what we used to stand for, at least try to keep your panties on, huh, Teresa." He ended with a wink he regretted the second he had turned his back to her, yet all he did while returning to his room was take a bite of his pizza.

The second she heard the door close, Teresa slumped down onto the table with her face in her hands, her body no longer strong enough to keep up the pretense.

James let out a sigh, reigning in the urge he had to follow the other man and give him a piece of his mind. Instead, he put down his gun, hands on his hips as he turned to look at Teresa and asked what he knew would be a futile question. "Hey, you okay?"

She only shook her head, refusing to lift it.

So James took the two steps over to her, standing behind her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's an asshole. Even a bigger one than I had already preconceived him to be. None of the things he said have any merit," he went on, trying his hand at reassurance.

He felt her shift ever so slightly, tilting her body so she could rest her head against his thigh, although she still wouldn't look at him. "You've had it tough, been through hell and back." His hand reached for her thick locks a little warily and his touch was cautious as he ran his fingers through her hair in whatever comfort he could muster for her, despite it being largely a foreign state to him. "More importantly though, you survived. All of it." He found it difficult to withdraw his fingers from her, but there were no other words that came to mind. "I'm going to get you something to wear, okay?" It was the only thing he could do that was the right thing to do. And it was becoming harder and harder to overlook the absence of her clothes.

When he came back she was looking at him again, eyes still wet. She silently accepted the t-shirt he handed her and put it on, James averting his gaze only because she would catch him looking.

"All because I didn't want to share a bed with him," she said more so to herself than for James to hear as she got up from the table, hands pulling at the shirt.

"As is your right, Teresa," James gently told her. "Guero couldn't, shouldn't have expected that from you. Not after everything you've gone through and the repercussion his absence has had on you." His eyes locked with hers as he recognized the myriad of emotions that she had experienced and were now clouding her eyes. "I haven't made anything easier either," he not only validated her reality but also acknowledged his own contribution to that. "And we'll go by a store before we leave here so you can get some things of your own to wear."

Teresa let go of the t-shirt. "It's not about—"

James held up his hand to stop her. "I know, but Guero made one very valid point. You shouldn't be wearing my things. Not out of necessity."

Something else was implied, but neither one of them voiced it. Not out loud at least.

Instead, James dropped onto the couch, trying to pretend not to notice that her eyes were on him as he did so. He pulled one of the pizza boxes closer. He began putting slices on some plates, handing one to her when she sat down beside him.

Teresa took the slice. "Thank you." Her eyes skimmed his momentarily, letting him know that she was thanking him for far more than just the food.

James nodded, reaching for his own plate before settling back onto the couch.

Teresa curled her legs underneath her and leaned into him just a little, even though it was enough.

And James let her, not saying a word as he started on his own slice.

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 **Please review?** I would love it if you would leave behind your thoughts? And also any suggestions to where I can find Teresa/James stories or any ones I have manages to miss. Thank you!


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